October 20 2010, 7:09 AM

Here’s a preview of a project I’m working on called The Island. 

It’s an ode which is:

A lyric poem in the form of an address to a particular subject, often elevated in style or manner and written in varied or irregular meter.

Oxford Dictionary of English

I’m really trying to push boundaries in regards to my writing style. I believe that there’s so much more to the use of language over music than just ‘spitting’ sixteen ‘bars’. I set out to paint very descriptive pictures and bring back a form of personal indulgement not seen in popular music since the times of old.

Why should I confine myself to a box like the others, why can’t I become an alternative multifaceted popstar respected for my craft rather than all the smoke and mirrors that surround it?

This is art, this is pure emotion and literary prowess. This is me challenging myself as well as sharpening my skills, whilst bringing back the ways of old in the process.

This is me taking advantage of all the tools at my disposal to convey my art in every impossible dimension, so the audience feel all perspectives in order to stimulate their senses.

Imagine if William Shakespeare lived in the 21st century, what would he do?

Peace and Love

Khalid Omari

A few nights ago I got round to recording an underrated and significant piece of poetry I wrote in 2017 after a random encounter one Wednesday morning. It would be years until I understood the phenomena or even revisited the piece to structure or make sense of it. The app I wrote it on doesn’t’t provide an audit trail annoyingly so I couldn’t see when I started to make the edits. As you’ll come to learn about me depending on how long you’ve been following what I’ve been doing is that I love an audit trail because time and date carries as much significance as the pice itself. It’s how I reflect back and know exactly how and what I was feeling at a specific date and time.

I recorded the poetry into Logic Pro X to no backing track at all and managed to narrate it from my external monitor which display it much bigger, thankfully, than the days of old when I used to do it from my actual MacBook. The great thing about nowadays is that I can split the screen between LPX and Pages to really record and narrate at one time.

At the moment of posting I haven’t taken any photos of my live stream setup but over a course of time I’ll keep you updated with how it unfolds. The way my desk is organised it definitely does make it easier however I feel like the arrival of MacOS Monterrey will likely make it easier to control the stream as for something like OBS can be pushed to my iPad Air but then again why don’t I just use Sidecar?

Maybe I need to test it out from a response perspective to be able to check comments and viewers whilst streaming. Also I can’t benefit from MacOS updates straight away as I’ve got to wait until the manufacturers of my equipment release firmware updates that are compatible first and even then I’ve still got to be wary. This was the case after upgrading to Big Sur. My MacBook Pro still crashes randomly when loading particular Maschine files which is sometimes a major nightmare when trying to work. What you will found in this stream is that it kinda happens with LPX when loading up You Remind Me file as the Splendid riddim is access via the Akai MPC Live 2 being in controller mode with the file stored on its SSD drive that I recently installed.

I know some of the above may sound like gobberdy goop to the unfamiliar eye but its all relative to the process hence why its been documented in blog form. Anyway… without further adieu here’s You Remind Me from a collection of pieces entitled Internal Affairs that may feature on Rhythm & Prose: 1012BC. The video of the stream is also available to watch below too via the embed.

Stay up to date with future broadcasts by following me on Twitch and YouTube.

25th March 2017, 1015

You remind me of someone I once knew.

I think it’s the way your sunglasses are resting at top of your head as if they are some kind of tiara or hair band, holding your long dark hair with blond streaks running through it from covering your deep brown eyes that tell an eternity of stories.

You speak with the same linguistic flow and cadence as the person I once knew, poetic and soothing as the sound of the majestic Iguazú falls.

You remind me of her.

Similar genetic and cultural DNA, chilled and laid back sensibility, an air of having no care in the world, an island retreat and paradise.

Unlike Odysseus’ saga on Ogygia with the nymph Calypso, our stillness in time was but a moment. A grain of sand that seemed to take forever to fall through the portal from the top of the hourglass to the pile of grains at the bottom.

You remind me of someone who I dedicated verse after verse to.

Manuscripts manifested from a collection of thoughts.

Up late at night riding spiralling free writing trains of thought in a feeble attempt to descramble my brain. I ride this bus in the hope that writing it all down allows me to remove the remnants of you.

You remind me of the love I once chased as if I were the soda trying to mix with a concentrated and refined taste that burns the heart seconds after the initial sip had passed through my lips, meandering through the grooves of my tongue, flowing down the dark unchartered throatal abyss to leave a bitter taste in my mouth if left for too long between sips.

Madting.

Monday, 27th May 2020, 1826

I’m done with black people getting murdered on camera

I’m done with the voyeurism that goes with it

I’m done with the tribute memes.
I’m done with the complacency surrounding the mistreatment of black people and lack of acknowledgement for our never-ending struggle.
I’m done with explaining why I’m done with it and making you feel more comfortable by not speaking about it.

I’m done with always having a few effs for your feelings
I’m done with you misunderstanding my passion for frustration and aggression when discussing things

I’m done with you never actively researching the significance of it.
I’m done with diluting the message.
I’m done with code switching
I’m done with assimilating

I’m done with not speaking in vernacular because you deem it unprofessional.
I’m done with translating
I’m done with validating

I’m done because I can’t keep having the same conversations about why this happens again and again
I’m done because I’m exhausted

I’m done because I’m at the end of my tether

I’m done because I have zero eff coins to place into the machine and continue to play this perpetual game of injustice and outrage.
I am done.

No amount of protests will create change quick enough for us to bask in the light of our liberation

No amount of memes, screenshots, infographics and tweets could ever replace much needed dialogue to understand how the actions of an invisible enemy continue to keep us under the standard of life and basic privilege enjoyed by our counterparts.
No amount of apologies or public displays of acknowledgement to the current injustice will satisfy my thirst for liberation and equality.

Where was your interest when we were getting stopped and searched at record rates?

Where was your concern when we were being told to go back to our own country?
Where were your concerns during the Brexit rhetoric or the Windrush Scandal where they tried to deport those of us who re-built your not so Great Britain and weakened post World War Two economy?
We accepted a call to action to save the day by sending all our skilled workers to re-energise your manufacturing and transport industry, and also your beloved NHS.

When you’re out there banging your pots and pans

Will you spare a thought for the black Doctors and Nurses who came to help your sick great grandparents who refused their treatment as they didn’t want to get touched by black hands?

When you’re out there banging your pots and pans

Will you be doing so for the black transport, sanitary and hospitality workers who keep this country running
Alongside a whole host of internationals that you so despise but aren’t sure…

Why?
We accepted an invitation to leave the sunshine for the cold, dreary streets.
We gave you our cuisine and culture, in return you denied us our credit.

I’m done with suppressing how I feel

I’m done with baring my soul and hearing your guilt

I’m done with hearing you make this all about you

I’m done with hearing you deflect the issue

I’m done.
I’m done.
I’m done.

I’m done.

Until we rise up and meet injustice with collective and focused action against the oppressor

Until we stop begging for a seat at the table and the respect we deserve

Until we are actively educating our youth in the undiluted and vast history of our ancestors

Until dominant society stop co-opting slogans and signals for corporate gain

Until politicians and public figures stop virtual signalling

Until society refuses to face the hard inconvenient truth and reeducate yourselves on your chequered history of exploitation, genocide and inferiority rhetoric…
I’m done.

Don’t engage me in conversation if all you’re going to do is gawk at my pain for your voyeuristic fetishes.
Don’t invite me to your panel discussions

Don’t invite me to the unveiling of token gestures

All invitations are hereby declined.

I don’t know whether you realise that this isn’t just a moment.

I don’t know whether you realise that this isn’t just some raise your profile opportunity.

I don’t know whether you actually realise that I’d never take you seriously.

You will not and will never understand it fully.
I’m done with white supremacy.

Cogitation Pt.2 available as eBook and Audio

I’ve got a healthy obsession for change.

It’s all I can think about.

It’s building my rocket ship to takeoff.

It’s exercising patience to have enough fuel to complete the journey.

It’s mapping a route through asteroid belts and allowing the gravitational pull between the planet and the moon to propel the trip.

Speed isn’t the issue, it’s focus, determination and dedication to see it through to the end.

It’s balancing all the resources to cover the trip and keep us alive once we arrive and sow our seeds to reap the benefits of the first harvest.

It’s a punt into the unknown, it’s a bet on our future, it’s not so much about colonisation but discovery, it’s wondering what life is like outside.

This healthy obsession of mine is what happens when you’ve run out of tolerance for everything around you; the noises, the voices, the personalities, the conflicts, the forever retreating into the confines of your padded cell to shut yourself off from all the distortion, getting caught in a sinking sandpit of toxicity.

It’s my last ditch attempt at sanity and having peace of mind.

I want to leave, I have to leave, I’ve outgrown what life is here.

I’ve outgrown the conflicts, the battles, remaining impartial in such a toxic environment, living in a shack on the no mans land between three fronts.

I’ve endured much.

I may not say it but on the inside I’m deteriorating.

I’ve reached the point where I can no longer retreat inwards, I’ve completely shutdown to the point where I can no longer muster or string together a sentence.

I’m done.

I need to get out of this sunken place as I’m no longer comfortable here.

Home is no longer where my heart is, my heart and mind seek inner peace elsewhere; a quieter and peaceful place, far away from all I’ve ever known.

I guess my healthy obsession is about finding a new place to call home, which I can comfortably call my own.

A place where I can be myself, sow my seeds and reap the rewards of my hard work.

On an expedition of inner peace and self discovery you don’t tend to miss the old you, environment or what once was.

Nostalgia neither comforts or consoles but plays a part in your own demise as you feel comfortable to the point where you can box yourself in behind the illusion of high walls constructed by your hyperreal memories which select which bits they choose to play back to you and the bits that didn’t reach the edit are too hurtful to relive.

They weren’t really your mates, they didn’t have your best interests at heart, they didn’t even consider you when they acted, it was all done for self through counterfeit motives so don’t even feel bad for disappearing, just do you and do what’s best for you.

Pour your energy and resources into your relationship, future life and stay adulting.

All set to go?

Yes.

Destination locked, loaded and focused?

Yes.

Alright let’s do this, time to take off.

Apple Music | Spotify | Tidal

I tried to tell you about it from the jump. I gave you hints that were littered throughout the content, hidden behind the allegory and metaphors but as always you opted to remain on the surface rather than dig a little deeper.

I’m not trying to push you off the ledge into the depths of the Mariana Trench or into The Devils Tunnel in the nether regions of Siberia, I’m just trying to give you a heads up.

This thing that we find ourselves apart of is an illusion.

We aren’t anything but a number, a piece of data, a username, IP address, a portal locked on, soldered and logged into a matrix where we exchange one of the most precious gifts; our time and energy, for a pittance.

We’ve been taught to believe that we should be grateful for what we’re given but if we see our time as the most priceless and precious thing, we’d covet and protect it more than we did our money and possessions.

Time doesn’t stop, it goes as fast or as slow as you want and you have the freedom to invest your time wherever you like.

To confine yourself to one place or a repeated circumstance being stagnant should be a criminal offence.

Stay on the move.

If not the body, the soul and the consciousness.

Physically we may not always be able to go to where we want to go but deep inside the mind we can go and do whatever we wish through imagination.

We think therefore we are, we project therefore we dream, envision and accomplish whatever it is we wish.

Invest your time and energy wisely because the clock don’t stop.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

[The earth has moved 3,885km in the time you’ve read this blog.]

This isn’t some political campaign where candidates are canvassing door to door for votes, it’s just a big duel down at the ok corral where the spectators wonder who draws first.

I choose to abstain from the vote, it’s not my place to meddle in politics, neither is it within my interests to do so. As much as I try to move with diplomacy and remain impartial, I get the feeling that my decision to stay out of the parliamentary chamber makes me a target of many frustrations. This isn’t a choice between communism and capitalism, it’s my personal decision to stay as far away from it all as I possibly can.

The annoying thing is the conversation subject itself, I really don’t wish to engage in it. I’m not a UN Peacekeeper, a negotiator or mediator so stop speculating my position on matters that don’t really concern me, stop trying to get me involved, don’t push me to endorse your point of view publicly, it’s getting beyond the point of being annoying. One conversation subject, the constant projection of frustrations, has got me beyond the point of rolling my eyes so far back that I can see my brain.

I choose not to witness or negotiate treaties, I just want to be and stay happy rather than think about any of it, that’s why I don’t get involved.

Tidal | Spotify | Apple Music | Soundcloud

https://soundcloud.com/whereisko/politics-as-usual

If you’re on the road and understand the code, dynamics, hierarchy and structure of the system, you can understand business and politics.

It’s the same type of organisation, so use your instincts and apply it to all contexts in order to decipher how stuff works in terms you understand and you’ll win.

Don’t worry about the guy or girl who has a degree or a silver spoon. Just apply your type of survival tactics to your current situation, after translating the terminology into real world concepts you’re familiar with.

Use your instincts to your advantage. Apply the way you’re able to read the unspoken signs a person gives off to determine whether they’re trustworthy or not; facial expression, tone of voice, gesticulation, energies and choice of language.

The other candidates may have a degree but they haven’t spent the past 10 years navigating their way through traps in their path to the present day.

You’ve played the roads like the stock market and operated an independent business where you forcasted finances, managed profit and loss, knew how to build and uphold customer retention through USP (unique selling point).

You’re in that interview room at the moment with a bunch of graduates in the lobby who’s cvs read like a who’s who of red brick and Ivy League alumni.

What have you got?

Well you survived and weathered the storm through staying quiet, neutral and within your means. You pretty much operated at a niche level. Your clientele were 9-5ers, out of the area, you were never heard nor seen, your connect didn’t know who you were personally, you purchased stock through a proxy.

You’ve lived a life that they read books, study and simulate through practical assignments. Their books don’t teach them the importance of managing relationships, navigating your way through risks, hardships, law enforcement, suppliers, clientele, propaganda campaigns, spies, informants, and a sector that doesn’t stop.

There’s no Monday to Friday, there’s no 9-5, there are no days off. There’s no venture capitalist investors, no government grants, tax breaks and funding. You started off broke, signed on and invested your payment into some stock, forcasted how much units it would take to break even, reinvest and make a profit before spotting a gap in the market, a target audience in need of something at a mark down, and creating another line of products to cater to them.

Use your wits, act on your gut and trust your instincts because you knew when to transition. Yes you took a few risks which paid off on the back of successful PR campaigns but when the market got shaky and competition became fatal, you knew when to stop.

You can do anything you put your mind to, just translate your experiences into the context of the sector you’re applying for and use your instincts.

Best Wishes,

Khalid Omari

(Stream via Spotify / Apple Music / Tidal)